You were not alive once
You will be dead forever
You are awake now and you dreamt last night
So Relax
Relax
Relax
They're all the same thing
Relax and don't complain
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Crack a Toe'a
A list of lies;
1. Animals can sense tornadoes/earthquakes.
2. Staring at the sun makes you go blind.
3. Butter gets out grass stains.
4. Credit cards open locked doors.
5. The average newborn can hold his/her breath for over 4 minutes.
6. Native Americans walked backwards through snow to confuse buffalo.
7. Hotels change bedsheets daily.
8. Burnt food is carcinogenic.
9. Your brain fills in what your eyes can't see.
10. Success is the meaning of life.
Lies, all lies.
1. Animals can sense tornadoes/earthquakes.
2. Staring at the sun makes you go blind.
3. Butter gets out grass stains.
4. Credit cards open locked doors.
5. The average newborn can hold his/her breath for over 4 minutes.
6. Native Americans walked backwards through snow to confuse buffalo.
7. Hotels change bedsheets daily.
8. Burnt food is carcinogenic.
9. Your brain fills in what your eyes can't see.
10. Success is the meaning of life.
Lies, all lies.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Re-up
Pathetic that I posted four times last year. Wow. Here's something to help put the edge back on:
1. Say there are two sets of two boulders; four boulders in total, all the same size (roughly 20'x20'x20'). Set A and Set B we'll call them. The two boulders in Set A sit relatively close to one another say seven feet apart. Same for Set B. The difference is that the gap between the two boulders in Set A is three feet deep and the gap between the two boulders in Set B is eighty feet deep. If there is no rain or wind or snow or sun in my eyes and I'm not being chased by a rhino or elephant or lion or tiger or a militia or a tribe blowing poisonous darts and I leap from one of the Set A boulders to the other, that's not really a big deal. It's a seven foot leap over a three foot deep hole. If, under the same non-adverse conditions, I perform a similar leap from one Set B boulder to the other, it's still not a big deal. It's a seven foot leap over an eighty foot deep hole. The point is it's not a risk either way if you know you can jump seven feet.
1. Say there are two sets of two boulders; four boulders in total, all the same size (roughly 20'x20'x20'). Set A and Set B we'll call them. The two boulders in Set A sit relatively close to one another say seven feet apart. Same for Set B. The difference is that the gap between the two boulders in Set A is three feet deep and the gap between the two boulders in Set B is eighty feet deep. If there is no rain or wind or snow or sun in my eyes and I'm not being chased by a rhino or elephant or lion or tiger or a militia or a tribe blowing poisonous darts and I leap from one of the Set A boulders to the other, that's not really a big deal. It's a seven foot leap over a three foot deep hole. If, under the same non-adverse conditions, I perform a similar leap from one Set B boulder to the other, it's still not a big deal. It's a seven foot leap over an eighty foot deep hole. The point is it's not a risk either way if you know you can jump seven feet.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
I've decided to write about what I'm afraid of. The only thing I'm afraid of in the entire world. The one thing that strikes me to my core and paralyzes me with excruciating fright. That thing which I am afraid of is having to talk to boring people that I have the possiblity of interacting with on a regular basis. I'd rather put fish hooks in my face. Currently, the co-workers I sit near are a amiable bunch of dead-end personalities. I listen to their conversations and phone talk, and I develop images and opinions about them even though I don't even know what they all look like. I'm like a shadow with ears. Only one interesting thing has happened to any of the people that sit near me at work. The guy across from me, who I can recognize and with whom I have pretended to be more interested in fantasy football than I really am (I think his name is Chris), recently seperated his shoulder. He's a big lug who joins in during the common office banter which consists of looking forward to drinking, both weekdays and weekends, and bellyaching about wives.
So, this big dude is riding his bike pretending to be attempting to get into shape, when reallly it was a struggle to adjust his helmet correctly to fit around his giant square head. And, while trying to make a turn on a busy city street, he hits a manhole cover wavers, panicks, recovers slighty then hits a giant pothole. That sends him airborne over his handlebars like a judo throw. Next thing, he's hitting the pavement with his medium pizza-sized shoulder taking nearly the entire brunt of the impact. I never got any details on if he picked himself up and went to the hospital, or needed assistance from strangers, or tried to tough it out and rode his mangled-ass bike home and drank the pain away.
And, that's about it.
Now, he has to wear a sling on his right arm which makes him practically helpless because he's right-handed. And, he finds it difficult to brush his teeth. I never brought up the fact that I broke my wrist senior year of high school in a mosh pit incident, drove myself home drunk, dealt with the discomfort for a month before going to the doctor then taught myself to write with my left hand well enough that I wrote poetry and scored a 4 on the AP English exam without any extra time. Then, the day after the cast that had been on my right arm from my wrist to my shoulder was replaced with one that stretched from only my wrist to my elbow, I began cleaning out the basement of the 1930s gas station that we owned next to my house [having an old gas station was awesome] to create a psuedo-apartment for myself. Said apartment eventually having electricity, cable TV, carpet, a couch, a bar across the door like a drawbridge, and an old toilet hole to pee down.
Yesterday, there was a new development when "Chris," feeling that his body's ability to heal itself was greater than it really is, decided to build a nice relaxing fire and picked up a piece of wood that was too heavy. Needless to say, he's right back where he started, maybe worse.
What a buffoon.
So, this big dude is riding his bike pretending to be attempting to get into shape, when reallly it was a struggle to adjust his helmet correctly to fit around his giant square head. And, while trying to make a turn on a busy city street, he hits a manhole cover wavers, panicks, recovers slighty then hits a giant pothole. That sends him airborne over his handlebars like a judo throw. Next thing, he's hitting the pavement with his medium pizza-sized shoulder taking nearly the entire brunt of the impact. I never got any details on if he picked himself up and went to the hospital, or needed assistance from strangers, or tried to tough it out and rode his mangled-ass bike home and drank the pain away.
And, that's about it.
Now, he has to wear a sling on his right arm which makes him practically helpless because he's right-handed. And, he finds it difficult to brush his teeth. I never brought up the fact that I broke my wrist senior year of high school in a mosh pit incident, drove myself home drunk, dealt with the discomfort for a month before going to the doctor then taught myself to write with my left hand well enough that I wrote poetry and scored a 4 on the AP English exam without any extra time. Then, the day after the cast that had been on my right arm from my wrist to my shoulder was replaced with one that stretched from only my wrist to my elbow, I began cleaning out the basement of the 1930s gas station that we owned next to my house [having an old gas station was awesome] to create a psuedo-apartment for myself. Said apartment eventually having electricity, cable TV, carpet, a couch, a bar across the door like a drawbridge, and an old toilet hole to pee down.
Yesterday, there was a new development when "Chris," feeling that his body's ability to heal itself was greater than it really is, decided to build a nice relaxing fire and picked up a piece of wood that was too heavy. Needless to say, he's right back where he started, maybe worse.
What a buffoon.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
The Anniversary
Quick shoutout to Dr. Answorth Allen, MD. Dr. Allen is currently the Medical Director for the National Basketball Player’s Association as well Head Team Physician for the New York Mets. He is also the medical director for St. John’s University and orthopedic consultant to the West Indies Cricket Board. And, despite his busy schedule, he took the time to cut me open and fix my right ACL last August. Thank you Dr. Allen. Also, much respect to Dr. Freddie Fu, MD, the man who fixed my left ACL when I was 14 and the mentor of one Dr. Answorth Allen, MD.
Orthopedic Surgery Rules!!!
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
The Beat Down
Party at the house for my 25th
Out on the town
Cab home w/ the G-friend and the Count
She be puking round Columbia
Kicked out the cab
Walk home passed a school and a park
Right around the end of the block met up with 6-8 punks
They yelled then started punching
I put myself between them and the G-friend
Got punched in the nose, mouth, and both ears
Didn't fight back
No reason to fight
Got hit with a board in the ribs and thigh
Only lasted about 10 seconds
Ended up with a big ass bruise on my thigh, little ones on my ribs
Swollen face/head and a bloody mouth
Didn't file a police report
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